More Than Gold
by Chridhe Flur
Summary: As a considerable amount of other Dollanganger saga fans felt that Cathy and Chris' first time together was wrong because of all the tender feelings building up to it, so did I. So I re-wrote it. It's the first chapter in this multi-short story compilation of Chris and Cathy's life together when they discovered that love is worth more than any amount of money can buy.
1. Chapter 1

My Christopher Doll was the only one who ever truly loved me, and I now believe that he's the only man I ever loved with my entire, true self either.

Julian didn't love me; he loved the idea of me, the idea of my innocence and fairytale-princess elegance as a dancer.

Bart didn't love me, not the same way he loved my mother. For Bart, I tried hard to be everything my mother wasn't to lure him in and get revenge on her. It wasn't me, necessarily, that Bart loved, but the possibility of his seed creating a child in me...which it did.

Those were silly things I did, when I was young and wild to be free from the attic. Oh, to be the cock-eyed ever-sure optimist that Chris was, full of hope and love and a bright future. If I had been, I wouldn't have stretched myself so thin, given so much, or have taken so long to notice what was in front of me all along.

Love doesn't happen when you want it to. Momma had been absolutely right about that, and while at first we had all been shocked to discover our father had been her half-uncle, we were soon to discover that love disregards boundaries of any kind, and that love is never a sin, as the Grandmother tried to instil in us.

The day I gave Christopher a haircut and he chased me with the shears, teasingly saying he would cut my hair as well, something changed between us. Chris had treated a cut on my abdomen resulting from the two of us tripping and the shears piercing my side, and he had kissed my bare nipple while comforting me.

For a while I'd known I loved him, and he me, more than any two siblings 'should' feel love for one another; an altogether different kind of love.

But the strong emotions manifested themselves differently that night in the hungry, yearning look in Chris' eyes as he kissed me and comforted me, and stroked my breast.

I felt an unusual warmth begin in the pit of my stomach as he kissed me, and felt it travel down to the private place between my legs, at the juncture of my thighs.

'Chris,' I breathed to him.

'Shh,' he soothed, and after a moment or two we arose and went down to Cory and Carrie, to ready them for bed and to sleep ourselves.

That night I slept fitfully, restlessly. I had fallen asleep gazing across the three feet between the boys' bed and ours, my eyes locked with Chris' glimmering gaze. We didn't speak, and when my eyelids began to flutter with fatigue, I let them fall.

Sometime in the night I felt strong hands on my shoulders.

'Cathy, wake up.' It was Chris' voice, furtive and careful in the dark of night, not wanting to disturb our young siblings-despite the fact that they lived now in a separate world, and slept too soundly: it would take much more to wake them than the sound of a voice.

'What is it, Chris?' I groaned, rolling stiffly onto my back and rubbing my eyes.

'Come up to the attic with me.'

'Why?'

'You'll see-just come.'

'All right, all right,' I mumbled grumpily to myself, and stopped by the bathroom for a moment to drink from the tap before taking Chris' offered hand and ascending the stairs to the attic.

The night air was chilly, even though it was August, and the first thing Chris did was to open the window when we got up the stairs. He leant out it, gazing intently, and then pointed.

'There it is! The Leo Constellation. Do you see it, Cathy?'

'No.' I leant out the window beside him, trying hard to see what he did. 'Where?'

'Maybe you need glasses,' Chris joked, which I did not appreciate. 'See by that particularly bright star there? Move to the left, and down a little ways, and you can just see it...'

Chris put his arm around me as he spoke, using the other to gesture at the night sky. I cuddled into him gratefully, chilled by the night air, listening carefully. Eventually I noticed the group of stars.

'I think I see it!' I pointed. Chris' enthusiasm, this time, was catching, and I gazed excitedly as the shape of the lion came into vague focus.

'That's right!' Chris squeezed his one arm around me happily, and kissed me briefly full on the lips in joy. 'We should study the stars more closely.'

I agreed, and we stood there together for a while longer gazing out in silence.

I was the one who suggested we lie down for a few moments on that stained, smelly mattress. Chris agreed readily, and we settled in, facing each other even despite the fact that being able to see anything was vague.

For a minute or two we were quiet. Then I said, 'Chris, do you think love is really evil?'

He didn't answer right away, but his silence didn't make me nervous-I knew he was thoughtful. Finally, he answered.

'No, Cathy. Love is never evil, not in any case. If you want me to argue it against the Grandmother, well, love comes from God. Man gets his capacity to love from God, which means there can't be anything wrong about it.'

I processed this for a little while.

'That makes sense. I didn't think that loving was wrong either.'

Then Chris said, in a very strange voice, 'I love you, Cathy...and sometimes I wonder if that IS wrong.'

'Nonsense!' I bristled at the idea. 'Chris, you're not being fair to yourself or to me. We aren't exceptions to the rule of love being right or wrong!'

'But, Cathy...' he drew in a deep breath before the words spilt out of of him. 'But, Cathy, I want to make love to you. Very strongly, sometimes.'

This didn't come as a surprise to me. I had seen it often enough in his eyes, and needed it often enough myself, to understand how that felt.

We were quiet for a time, and then I reached out and brushed Chris' cheek tenderly. 'Love isn't wrong,' I reminded him, clinging desperately to the idea. I leaned in to kiss his mouth and said it again. 'Love isn't wrong, Christopher Doll.'

This was no brief sibling kiss. This was a longer kiss, meaning something else which left me shivery.

Chris began to stroke my shoulders and arms, murmuring to himself, 'Love isn't wrong,' as he kissed me again and again. We were trying both to convince ourselves and each other of this truth.

His hands drifted down to my breasts, cupping and stroking gently, making me shiver and tingle all over; surrounded by sensation.

'Cathy, you're not a completely grown woman yet,' he murmured, 'but your breasts are so lovely and soft. I can't resist them.'

Chris' comment made me very happy, for I was often uncertain about my femininity...my desirability. Now he had assuaged my worst fears...I was attractive after all!

We kissed and touched and explored. My hands undid his pyjama top and brushed over the muscles on his chest, his shoulders. Chris' hands sifted through my hair and pulled my mouth to his, opening it against his own. We learnt the pleasures of tongue kissing.

Then he was reaching down to shimmy my nightie up, and I was letting him do it, helping him do it. It felt so natural to let him it was unreal. When it was off he tossed it away from the mattress and took my breasts in his hands again, his breath quickening at feeling my bare skin.

If I bathed before sleeping, I didn't wear any panties to bed under my nightie, and that was the case that night.

Chris noticed this state of affairs as he helped me pull my nightdress off, his fingers brushing against the curls between my legs.

'Cathy, you're not wearing any panties,' he said in a strange voice, stating the obvious.

'No.' My gaze lowered and I tried to explain. 'When I'm clean, I don't wear them to bed. It feels nice...not to.'

Chris was looking at me intensely, and I felt suddenly shy under his gaze. Then, when he kissed me again, I felt better immediately and snuggled up into his arms.

'Chris, I feel I'm at a disadvantage,' I teased. 'I'm wearing nothing, but you've still got your bottoms.'

He flushed slightly. 'Cathy...'

'What? Shouldn't I look at you as you look at me? We've seen each other before, many times. There's nothing to be ashamed of.'

'We can't go back from this if we do it.'

I looked Chris full in the face. 'I know, Christopher Doll. I don't want to go back. We've found a happiness here, and it's worth more than gold or any stupid money or inheritance. I'm not worried about it, not any longer.'

Chris made an anguished sound deep in his throat and then he kissed me passionately, trailing kisses down my neck, to my breasts.

'You're mine, Cathy,' he murmured. 'You'll always be mine...no matter where you go, what you do, or who you're with.'

I shivered at his words and the feel of his lips upon my skin. One of his hands dipped between my legs and stroked me there; I gasped and my head fell back.

'Say it, Cathy,' he said with quiet intensity. 'Say you're mine.'

'You know I am,' I gasped as his fingers made me tingle, and I meant it, too. 'You know I'm yours. I'll always be yours.'

This time I kissed him, and pushed his hands away from my private places so I could help him with his pyjama bottoms.

When they were off, I clicked my tongue at him and teased, 'Oh, Christopher, what are we going to do with you?' For he was wearing nothing beneath his pyjamas either!

'Love me,' he said teasingly in answer.

We lay side by side again, our touches slowing.

'Let's really enjoy this,' Chris murmured to me. 'First only happens once. Besides, I don't want to hurt you-your cut or when I'm inside you...even though some small pain is almost inevitable with initial penetration.'

There he went, speaking like a doctor again! Oh, I was proud of him!

We kissed slowly. Chris wanted to kiss me everywhere, even down there-something I was rather shocked about at first, but quickly came to love. His kisses turned to tongue strokes, and I began to tremble and cried out with pleasure, my fingers knotting into his blond hair.

I do swear that if I hadn't pulled him up to me again, Chris would have stayed there between my legs all night, pushing me over precipice after precipice tirelessly, loving so much giving me such intense pleasure. It seemed to matter more to him than his own-it was always to be that way.

But I did end up pulling him up. We kissed more, and his hands caressed my breasts, circling my nipples. Chris bent his head to suck at one like a baby does, and oh! The sensation!

My reaction caused him to suckle for a long time, as he had taken a long time between my legs.

When I pulled his head up this time, I whispered, 'Do you want me to kiss you everywhere, too?'

Truth be told, I was still rather terrified of the idea. I wanted to, but I was scared.

'No, Cathy,' he said, seeing my hesitation. 'Only if you want to, when you're completely ready. That doesn't have to be tonight.'

I sighed with relief. I knew I'd come to have confidence to bring him pleasure, but tonight was not my night for that.

'You can have me, Chris,' I whispered to him. I felt the warmth of his male part against my stomach, swollen and velvety soft. 'I want you to.'

Chris kissed me softly. 'I don't know if you're ready...'

'I am!' I insisted.

'I mean your body.' His hand delved between my thighs again, stroking me slightly, a concentrating expression replacing the dubious one on my brother's face.

Reluctantly he pulled his hand away, murmuring almost to himself, 'She can't be more ready.'

'I'm ready,' I repeated, and he looked at me.

'Yes, I think you are.'

Then Chris was kissing me, his arms around me, and rolling ever so gently on top of me, kneeing my legs apart carefully.

I was about to become a woman. There wasn't any time anymore for beating around the bush with silly words, euphemisms, and feelings of embarrassment for our sexual parts. I'd read a lot. I knew what people called them.

So when I felt Chris against me, I thought to myself, 'That's his cock against my pussy. It's so hot against my skin and it feels good.'

Chris was trembling, kissing me again, asking in a shaky voice, 'Are you sure you want to do this, Cathy?'

'Yes,' I said firmly. 'You said it yourself-I belong to you. So go on, take me.' And I brought his face down to my own and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

Chris spread my pussy apart with his fingers and positioned himself at my entrance, beginning to press forward.

Good gracious, he was big! I could feel myself stretching around his cock, getting absolutely stuffed with it, and he wasn't even halfway inside me yet.

'You okay?' Chris asked me through gritted teeth. I suddenly realized he must be holding himself back something awful.

'I'm fine, Chris. Relax.' I rubbed his tense shoulders. 'Come into me further.'

Chris moaned at my words and sank into me quickly after that.

He moaned again when he was inside me all the way. 'My God, Cathy. You feel wonderful inside.'

I felt stretched and slightly pained, but good as well.

'I'm going to have to get used to the feeling of you inside me,' I told my brother, 'but I believe that I will love this.'

This made Chris grin. He pressed a teasing peck on my lips and drew back his hips an inch or two, and then pushed back inside me.

There was pain, oh, there was pain! It was intense but only lasted for a few seconds, and then slowly melted away. I tried not to show it on my face, because Chris was obviously feeling the opposite-intense pleasure-and I didn't want him to stop himself from feeling it.

It was no use trying to hide anything from him, though. He knew me too well, and stopped moving within me.

'Cathy? Are you hurting?'

'It was only for a second,' I said apologetically. 'It went away. Just please go on.'

Chris looked doubtful, so I moved my hands to his hips and encouraged their movement, arching my hips up to swallow more of him inside me again.

The pleasure which washed over me as I moved against him was surprising and exciting. A flush of good feeling travelled up me, and from my mouth fell a wanton moan.

My brother was looking down at me in surprise. 'You feel good, Cathy?'

I nodded vigorously and excitedly tried to move his hips, wanting to feel him move in me again. 'It feels so good! Please, Chris-please move in me again!'

This time, he did, and I was unable to keep back another moan at the wonderful sensation of his cock sliding inside me.

Encouraged, Chris continued to move, and leant down to cover my next moan with his mouth. My arms wrapped firmly around his back and I writhed against him. The slow pace he was taking was torturous! It felt lovely, but it wasn't enough-I wanted it faster!

'Faster,' I murmured against his lips, and this time I was catching HIS moan against my mouth.

Chris didn't question me this time. His pace sped up and I found myself gasping. Every time he pressed into me very deeply I felt a huge zing of pleasure and my pussy muscles clamped down-spasmed, really-around his cock.

Taking advantage of my flexibility as a dancer, I drew my legs up, pulling them closer to my chest at the sides of his body, inviting him into me deeper.

Chris pulled away from my mouth and contorted himself in order to reach my breast as he continued moving within me. He pulled my nipple into his mouth and thrust into me deeply. I cried out and spasmed around him, and felt myself fall, wonderfully fall...

When I became fully conscious again Chris was rubbing against me slowly. 'I can't hold back much longer, Cathy, I can't,' he panted desperately.

I stroked his face. 'Don't, Christopher Doll. Don't hold back.'

He gasped at my words, kissed me hard, and then set up a very quick and vigorous pace. I held him to me as he moved, felt him gasp and pant into my neck, and then he made a low, deep sound in his throat and jerked into me frantically, twice, three times. 'Cathy!' He cried weakly, and then fell limp against me.

'Chris?' I was worried. 'Are you-okay?'

Chris nodded wordlessly. I noticed he was supporting his body so he wouldn't crush me, and decided if he was able to do that, then he was well enough.

Suddenly Chris rolled onto his back, taking me with him so I was lying on his stomach. I shrieked, not expecting the movement, and Chris laughed.

'Shh. Be still, my lady Cath-er-ine,' he teased me, stroking my hair and back, and bringing his face up to kiss me.

We lay together. It took me a moment, but I realized that something was leaking out of me, something slippery. I frowned and told Chris.

He flushed a little bit, but said, 'That's my seed, Cathy. In science they call it sperm. If it meets with part of you, an egg, then we could make a baby.' He bit his lip and waited rather nervously for my reaction.

At first the idea of a child we created frightened me...then, I remembered our intense love for each other, and relaxed. We already knew how to take care of babies; Cory and Carrie were practically our own at this point. That would be no issue. The Grandmother already considered us abominations, evil, awful. It would make no difference how she thought of us now if Chris and I had a baby.

So I smiled at my brother. 'That might be nice.'

Chris kissed me, relieved, and we settled in cozily for a while before dressing ourselves and heading back down to the twins.

When we eventually got out of the attic for good I was so relieved to be free that I forgot about Chris for a while, and that I needed him, and what we shared. Now that there was another world to have I denied him what we created together and so enjoyed, denying myself and him that joy. I pretended it had never happened, pushed him away.

I will forever regret doing all those things. The mistakes I made in the world were terrible ones, and I know they would have been avoided if I'd just accepted again, and stayed with Chris. I know I would have been happy, very much so. But I thought that there were things I would miss out on and went to do them.

I had two babies; one by Julian, and one by my mother's second husband, Bart. Neither of those men were around for the right reasons, and neither was a very considerate lover, like Chris was.

At the end of the day, even after marrying our caretaker, Paul, because I felt I owed that happiness to him, I found Chris again. He had always been waiting for me, knowing that the pull between us was undeniable, and the need for each other was life-giving.

Many times I have cried and told him how sorry I was for pushing him away and denying the blatantly obvious. He always soothed me, and kissed me, and told me it was all right. He became a father to my sons, to our sons now, and I couldn't imagine anyone doing a better job.

Giving birth to my second child had left me permanently damaged and unable to conceive again, and even if it hadn't, Chris had convinced me to get an operation that would prevent any further conception.

These days, I wish I could have borne a child for Chris, one that was just him and just me. I'm no longer concerned that a baby we made would be damaged. I know now they would be the perfect child, created by the strong love between us. Beautiful, blond, sweet, lovely. I know Chris thinks about it too, sometimes, but we didn't speak of it often, and never speak of it anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

I was dreaming again, stuck in a horrible nightmare, watching Cory stuff hundreds or arsenic-icing-sugar donuts into his mouth. Then Carrie, lovely, tiny, grown-up Carrie, began to do the same thing. They grinned at me widely, impervious to my shouts of warning, telling them to stop, stop! But before my eyes they withered, still grinning, and died. I was sobbing, pounding the floor with my fists. Not our beautiful twins, God, no! Not again!

Then Chris' arms were around me, and trying to calm me, and I was waking.

'Shh, darling. Shh. It's just a dream. You're all right.' I turned into Chris' chest, hiding my face into it and crying more quietly as a result. He held me close to him, rocking me.

The tears began to subside, and I scrubbed at my face with my hands. Chris took a tissue from the nightstand and gently rubbed the tears away instead.

'What was it this time, Cathy?' He asked me gently.

'It was...the twins.' My voice trembled dangerously. 'They were poisoning themselves, Chris, and not listening when I said not to eat the donuts!' I almost broke down again, but Chris planted a soft kiss on my mouth, and I calmed.

Rubbing my back, Chris told me not to worry. 'You remember the twins are in a better place, Cathy. You told us yourself. They're with Daddy. That's just something from our attic days haunting you.'

I nodded, trying to remember that. We had a wonderful home and family now, and everything was going fine. Chris was a doctor, I taught ballet...nothing was going wrong.

'Can you sleep again, Cathy?' Chris asked me, and I nodded and kissed him and turned away from him so he could spoon me. It was how I felt the absolute safest: when Chris' body was pressed perfectly into the shape of mine, his arms around me as we slept.

'Good morning, Emma,' I smiled at the slightly plump, brown-haired woman in the kitchen. She was our help, but it was hard to give that help a specific title. Emma looked after our children when we weren't home, kept the house orderly, and cooked for us, among other things. Being a nanny, housekeeper, and cook, she was an all-around lifesaver-and at this point, part of our family.

'Good morning, Cathy,' she replied, looking up from the eggs frying on the stove. 'It's looking to be a fine day. Jory already went outside.'

My eyebrows lifted and my gaze went to my watch. It wasn't even 7.30 on a Saturday and Jory was already outside! How uncharacteristic of him.

'Well, that's wonderful,' I said hopefully. 'I wonder what he's up to.' Drifting over to the window, I tried to see if I could get a glance of our elder son. At ten, he was already starting to become more quiet, reasonable, and dedicated to things.

I decided I would go out in a minute to see, but only after setting the table and seeing that Chris and Bart were up.

When I went to check on Chris, he was still in our bed, curled up on one side. I went around to him, stroking his hair and kissing his face.

'Breakfast is almost ready, Christopher Doll,' I sang in his ear. It was a pet name I rarely called him these days.

He groaned a little and shifted slightly, but didn't make any move towards getting up.

'Come on. Don't you want to eat? Aren't you hungry?'

'I'm hungry,' he mumbled. 'For you. Come back to bed, Cathy, and we'll have our breakfast here.' One eye opened to look at me, glimmering with mischief and unspoken promises.

'I can't, Chris,' I said, although I dearly wanted to. 'Early class today.'

He groaned again, louder this time, and covered his face. 'And I have late rounds at the hospital tonight. I won't be back until nearly two.'

Then, almost under his breath, he said, 'We never have time for making love anymore.'

It was true, and we both hated that. Even when the boys were both much smaller we had more time to spend in intimacy. Now we seemed to have stretched ourselves too thin with mismatched schedules, and barely were in the house at the same time, lately.

I sighed in agreement with Chris and stroked his hair, leaning down to kiss his mouth gently.

'I know, and I know we're both sorry about it. We'll find time, Chris. Soon.'

He smiled up at me, ever the optimist. 'Of course we will, my love. Soon.' We kissed again, and I left him to dress himself as I went to check on our youngest.

Bart was still curled up in bed, fast asleep, his little fists up near his chin. I sat at his bedside and gazed down at my younger son with love, gently touching his cheek.

'Bart, honey, time to rise and greet the day.'

He mumbled, curling up tighter in on himself.

'Not hungry. Wanna sleep.'

'You can't, honey. There are things to do today. And Emma's making eggs specially for you, made easy-over.' I'd seen the eggs in the pan and immediately known who they were for; Emma knew us all so well these days!

Bart perked up a little. 'Really?'

'Yes, sweetie. Just get dressed and wash up and come downstairs, and we can eat.'

'Is Dad up?'

I smiled. 'Yes, but he was almost worse than you when it came to getting out of bed!' Bart laughed at the idea and we heard Chris' laughter join ours as he strode, newly suited up, into the room.

'Up!' He slung a giggling Bart over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and left the room with him.

I descended the stairs and smiled to myself. The day was off to a good start!

I found Jory outside trying to dance to Coppélia. He'd brought an old wind-up Victrola of mine into the yard and dug through our record stash to find the ballet.

Not wanting to interrupt my son, I stood back with a small smile on my face. He certainly tried hard to do everything right, and someday he was sure going to be something, even though he wasn't even close to perfect right now.

Chris came up from behind me and stood next to me, putting his arm around my waist and drawing me into his side as we stood to watch our son dance.

'He's going to be something, isn't he?' Chris asked me in a low voice, never tearing his eyes away from our son, who spun into a dizzying display of pirouettes.

'I hope so,' I sighed, squeezing Chris. 'I think he will.'

'Well, you know about that some, don't you, Catherine Dahl?' Chris said softly, looking down at me.

I laughed a little. He'd used my stage name, when I was in the ballet, and becoming, to some degrees...famous.

'I guess I do.'

The music ended and Jory bowed, to our thunderous applause.

'That was wonderful, Jory,' we both praised him.

'Now come in to eat, Dancer Boy,' Chris teased him. 'You're brother's already at the table, and I bet he's not too happy having to wait for his breakfast.'

Jory laughed, and we helped him gather up the Victrola and headed into the house.

Breakfast was wonderful. Eggs done just the way each of us liked them, slices of bacon still hot from the griddle, buttered toast, and bowls of fresh fruit. I beamed at Emma as even the fussiest of all of us, Bart, dug in heartily to the meal.

'What are you going to do today, Bart?' I asked him.

He shrugged, mouth full of bacon.

'Not sure. Goin' outside maybe.'

'Going,' I corrected him gently. 'That sounds nice! It's set to be a really beautiful day outside, very hot and sunny.'

'Don't like too much sun,' Bart complained, and for a second a dark shadow passed over his face. He was usually a very happy, amiable, imaginative child, and his protest confused me.

'Well, just wear a hat,' I suggested, and he brightened, enjoying his hats with the fascination many six-year-olds hold for unusual things.

Chris smiled at me from across our small table.

'And you, Jory? Do you have anything planned for after class?'

Jory shook his head. 'Mm-mm. I guess I could try to teach Clover to learn how to fetch again, but he's not very good at it.'

I almost laughed out loud! Clover was Jory's puppy, who loved the balls we threw for him, but didn't understand yet that he needed to bring them back to us in order for them to be thrown again! Jory had only had him for a few weeks, and wasn't particularly patient with the puppy's current capacity to learn, just yet.

'Yes, you could do that,' I replied, trying to sound serious and hiding a smile. 'He could use the help.'

Emma started to clear our dishes, and I rose to help her. Chris snapped the newspaper which he'd opened on the table closed, drained his coffee mug and stood up to kiss me.

It was a brief press of lips since we couldn't afford much more at the moment. I squeezed him briefly, straightened his tie and a wayward lock of hair, and smiled up at him. 'Drive carefully,' I told him, sounding for just a moment exactly like Momma.

Chris nodded. If he'd noticed the similarity he didn't show it or comment.

'I will, Cathy. I love you.'

'I love you too.'

'See you later, boys!' He called out to our sons, and then he was out the front door and down the driveway.

'That's it.' I concentrated on the young dancer in front of me with a firm, critical eye. 'A little tighter, Melody. Your arm needs to be angled more.'

The student in front of me about Jory's age, Melody Richarme, was a promising young pupil. Just today she and Jory had danced together in front of the class. Separately, they both had potential, ambition, and the possibility to go places-even at this age it was easy to tell. But together-together they were something else. Despite fumbling mistakes and moments of inelegance, the two had made a beautiful dancing pair, elegant, gentle yet firm with each other, and able to play off one another's strengths. They complimented each other as peanut butter and jam do.

'Lovely, Melody,' I praised her, as the entire class erupted in applause. We were having our bi-monthly progress tests-in front of one another, as always, which helped the dancers get used to being in front of an audience and under pressure. The tests almost always bore the fruits of hard labour, obvious in the curl of a toe or movement of a head, showing the progress of every dancer.

'That will be all for today,' I told my students, smiling. 'Wonderful work, everyone! It's obvious that you've all been working very hard. Keep up the good work!'

Jory came up to me, smiling and beginning doing pliès at the barre next to me.

'That was a good class, Mom, wasn't it?' He grinned.

'Yeah, sure it was.' I ruffled his hair. 'You did well.'

Jory smiled his thanks, preoccupied.

'Are you ready to lock up and head home?' I called over my shoulder to my son as I headed to the studio office to lock the door and wait for the dancers' parents to arrive.

'Sure. Anytime.'

Jory followed me slowly, a sheepish, thoughtful look on his face.

'Come on, what's eating you?' I teased.

'Oh, nothing,' he said, completely honestly. 'I was only thinking of Melody. She's a very good dancer, isn't she?'

'Yes,' I admitted. 'And very beautiful, too.'

Jory gave me a look. 'Mom!'

'Well, there's no sense beating around the bush, honey. Melody is a talented dancer, she's friendly, she's attractive...' I shrugged, as if to say, 'what else do you need?' and grinned at my eldest son, enjoying teasing him.

His face was reddening. 'I'm too young for a girlfriend, Mom!' Jory protested.

I ruffled his hair, laughing. 'I know. I was just joking around.'

He smiled at me in a relieved sort of way, and I sent him to go get changed while I locked up the office.

I always felt distinctly melancholy when Chris worked late and couldn't join me in our bed. It always felt so empty sleeping alone. This usually resulted in my staying up as late as I could waiting for him, in the sitting room, with a lamp on, drinking tea and reading something, or listening to the radio.

Tonight was no exception. I made myself a pot of strong mint tea, letting the leaves infuse, and carried it into the sitting room, pulling my legs up under me and reaching for a book.

I got through three cups of tea before having to use the bathroom. Upon my return, I found myself yawning and my mind blurry, and took the afghan off the back of the sofa and covered myself with it.

The next thing I knew, Chris was home, kissing my face gently. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I must have done so; the clock read quarter after two in the morning.

'Cathy, darling,' Chris murmured. 'Come to bed. It was sweet of you to stay up for me, but I'm here now. Let's go to bed. I'll just take a quick shower and come join you.'

'Okay,' I murmured, still thick with sleep, like a tired child. I began to get up but Chris, despite his long, trying day, swept me up into his arms and carried me like a damsel to the bedroom. He laid me down, pressed a kiss to my hair, and was gone.

Vaguely, I heard the spit of the shower starting as I began to wake up. I felt strangely invigorated after my slumber of a few hours, and no longer wanted to sleep-if Chris wasn't with me, that is. Getting up, I slipped out of my clothes, letting them fall in a silken heap to the floor, and padded quietly to our adjoining bathroom.

Sometimes Chris would hum in the shower, but tonight he didn't. Poor Christopher Doll-it had been a long day for him, and he was surely tired.

I pulled the curtain back and glanced in. Chris' back was to me, his head raised under the spray as if inviting a much-needed rainfall, eyes closed. Steam rose from the floor of the tub as I stepped quietly in, appreciating him.

It didn't matter how long we'd been together. I always loved his body, how strong and lithe it was. The thrill of seeing him never dulled in me, no matter how many times I'd seen him unclothed.

His strong shoulders and back, bronzed from long hours outside in the sunlight when we went swimming in the summer, had supported me more times than I could count. His arms had held me without fail. His legs told the tale of long days walking around the hospital, strong and toned.

Chris shifted slightly under the water, not noticing me yet in his absorption in the hot water. As he did shift, I saw his manhood was engorged and stiff. We hadn't had much time recently to relieve any pressure together...perhaps he had intended to take care of it himself before coming to join me in bed.

Smiling, I came up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Chris started at my touch, but relaxed in an instant when he realized it was only me.

'Cathy,' he said. His voice sounded unused; gritty. 'I thought you were sleeping.'

'My little nap woke me up, apparently,' I said, rubbing my face gently across his shoulder as I spoke, enjoying the feeling of his skin against my skin.

'What's this, Christopher?' There was a teasing lilt to my voice. Reaching out, I wrapped my hand around his erection, giving a little squeeze.

His laugh was breathy. 'Oh...nothing. I just missed you, a little, Cathy. And I carried you to our bedroom...it's just been so long since we've-'

'Made love,' I finished for him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and letting go of him entirely, so he could turn around to look at me. 'I know. It's been so busy.'

He turned, gazing down at me for a moment. His golden hair was straight-wet with the water, and droplets clung to his face. Chris' eyes, the bluest of blue summer skies, swallowed me up. He swallowed, thickly, and reached a hand out to cup the back of my head gently. Leaning down, his kissed me, the gentlest of kisses, his moist lips brushing against mine feather-light.

It was the spark to start the fire. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him back, more forcefully, feeling Chris pull me hard into his body.

An emphatic, 'Mmm,' came from his throat as his hands drifted down my back, reaching underneath my bum and pulling me up swiftly before pressing me against the wall, his mouth demanding on mine.

Breaking away from his mouth for a moment, I nuzzled his face. 'My Christopher Doll,' I sighed. 'Let's not do this here. Let's go to our bed.'

He nodded, not wanting to stop, but wanting at the same time to take a little bit of time making love.

Turning off the shower, we shared a towel and returned to the bedroom, and climbed onto the bed together, wrapping our arms around each other. His body was hot in the cool air of the bedroom as any residual water evaporated from our skins. I shivered with both pleasure and a chill to feel him against me as his mouth trailed down from my mouth to my breasts, kissing and kissing me there, nuzzling my breasts, and then suckling. With a gasp at the feeling of his mouth, I arched my back, cradling his head to my bosom.

'Oh...Chris...' The whispered moan made him look up from loving my breasts, and his mouth came down over mine again.

'Cathy...'

I realized he was trembling, and touched his face gently, pulling away to look at him.

'What is it?'

'I just...need you,' he said, 'and I'm tired. Probably overtired. I'm sorry, Cathy.'

'For what?'

'That I need so much from you...I...'

'Don't worry,' I said softly. 'Lie back, Christopher. I need just as much from you as you need from me. It all evens out.'

He lay back on the bed, watching me with tender, but tired, eyes. 'What are you going to do?'

'I'm going to love you, darling,' I said, kissing his flat stomach.

I climbed on top of him, kissing and simply just rubbing myself against him. Breathless, Chris reached between us, directing his cock so he could rub between my lips properly, in all my wet and warm places he so loved and I so loved for him to be. I moved my hips in tandem, enjoying the friction between our bodies, enjoying the slow building up towards a peak. After a few minutes I gently pulled his hand away and sank down onto his cock, right to the root, and rose up again and did it again, extremely gratified by his deep moan. His hands grasped my hips.

'My God, Cathy,' he breathed. 'Do it again.'

I rose again, almost all the way off him, and slid back down again, feeling him solid and hot within me and loving it.

Then I was rolling my hips back and forth, leaning back but grasping Chris' hands, panting. This position only pushed him farther in and rubbed intensely in all the right places for both of us. One more minute of doing this and he would cum, I knew; explode in ecstasy within me. But today, that was something neither of us wanted.

Leaning over, I kissed him. One of his hands came up to cup my cheek, and he kissed me back, slowly, savouring the feeling of our mouths together.

'I was such an idiot,' I moan, sitting up again and riding him harder, needing to feel him deep inside. 'But the young aren't wise, are they?'

'What do you mean?' He asked, distracted by my impassioned movements on top of him. 'How were you an idiot?'

'I didn't see…when we were free…I didn't see you. I didn't see that I already had exactly what I needed, more than I could ever want. We make our own rules. We aren't hurting anyone by doing this, no one.'

'Cathy—' Chris gripped my hips, pushing up into me hard. 'You weren't an idiot. You were drunk with freedom. But now, you realise…like I did long ago. We have each other now.' He kissed me, drawing me down to his body. 'Don't worry. I love you.'

Then he carefully extricated himself from me, leaving me lying against the pillows and kneeling between my legs. He reached hand out to stroke between my legs, and gazed at me there as I bent to his touch. 'I wanted you this morning,' he said. 'I wanted to lick you.' I felt myself flush at his frank words. 'But now is even better. I want to hear you moan, Cathy,' he said, before giving me a brief but intense kiss and then parting my legs.

His tongue was soft, warm velvet on me. Its caress shot lightning bolts of shocking pleasure through my body. I did moan, softly, and wove my hands into his hair, his lovely blond hair.

Now he was sucking my clit into his mouth, sliding two fingers inside me, knowing what it did to me. But just when I was about to tumble down into an orgasm, just when it was starting to build…he stopped.

'Why?' I moaned, reaching my hand down quickly, as if I wanted to finish the job myself. Chris nudged my hand away immediately, sinking inside me again with a relieved moan. 'This is why,' he murmured into my ear. 'I can't hold on long this time, Cathy. We'll have to do it again in the morning. But I want you to cum when I do.'

'Chris…Chris, of course,' I breathed, barely able to think coherently at the pleasure he was giving me. 'Oh…'

Suddenly he gathered me into his arms, sitting up, and encircled my waist, burying his face in my neck. Sitting up like this, I had no choice but to rise up—with his help—and sink back down onto his cock every time. Not that I wanted a choice in the matter…it felt like heaven on Earth.

'I'm going to,' I breathed, moaning into his ear. He pulled back enough to kiss me, never ceasing pulling me up and letting me come down. I bit down on his shoulder as I came, not wanting to wake the whole house with my cries. Chris' movements where faster now, faster.

'We make the rules,' he said, before nudging my face over for a kiss and moaning against my lips. I knew he was cumming; I could feel him pulse inside me, and the growls emanating from his throat were unmistakable. He shoved into me, hard.

'I love you,' I murmured into his shoulder, kissing the bite mark, afraid I'd hurt him in my passion.

'I love you, Cathy,' he said back, lying me down gently in the bed and cuddling beside me. 'Let's do it again, in the morning.'

Laughing, I kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

This scene occurs during 'Petals on the Wind,' after Cathy has met Julian and stayed out late with him. She comes home to an upset and worried

Christopher, who confronts her in her bedroom while she's changing.

His mouth was near to mine, so near. For a moment we hesitated, lingering, and then we were kissing, both drawn to each other. Christopher had been so upset when he'd shown up at my door, when he'd chastised me for being out late with Julian—when'd accused me of giving myself to just anyone—but now, here we were, melting into each other. Driven by passion. I couldn't stop kissing him, and he couldn't get enough of my mouth.

My hands were roaming, pushing his shirt off as he pulled me closer and his hands feasted over my curves, our movements urgent and frenzied.

When his mouth went to my neck, beginning to kiss me, my head fell back and my breath came hot. His hands were all over, pressing, touching. His words from earlier kept floating back to me, inflaming. When I felt what it was like to touch you, he had said, about our first time in the attic together. He'd said it as if he couldn't live without it.

Christopher pulled me closer to his body, lifting me as we kissed to put me on the bed. His body was so close to mine. I could feel him, between my legs, noticeably hard despite his jeans. Our kisses were passionate, thirsty. For one brief, tantalizing moment, he stopped, and looked into my eyes, reading me.

'Are you sure?' His voice was husky, breaking, but his look was intense.

I needed him. We had to do this. I wasn't about to back out.

'Yes,' I gasped, and then he was undoing his pants, his other hand slipping up the inside of my thigh past my nightgown to touch me and raise the fabric simultaneously. In another moment, he was there, against me, and my hand on his shoulder tightened as he pushed into me deliciously, and I moaned.

Christopher's head fell against my shoulder as he pressed himself in deep. I could tell he was in just as much ecstasy as I was. It was something we'd tried for so long to avoid, to not do—but it felt so blissfully right. He felt so good inside me. For a moment we locked eyes, and needed not say anything—all the love, the relief, the rightness, was there, and then he leant in to kiss me again.

His hands were moving again, to cup and caress my breasts through my nightgown, which I now wish I had taken off.

We were urgent, but didn't rush it. I could tell Christopher was holding himself back as he moved into me. The truth was, neither of us knew when—or if—this was ever going to happen again, so we had to savour it.

'Christopher,' I moaned into his ear, making his breath come harder. 'Oh, god Cathy, I love you,' he shuddered into my hair, kissing my neck. One of my breasts was exposed now, and he was touching my nipple, occasionally leaning over to kiss it.

I felt myself tighten around him, and he slipped his tongue into my mouth to kiss me tenderly as I began to have my orgasm. I could tell he was enjoying it, feeling me cum around him, and then he was moving into me faster, kissing me harder, and I knew he was close.

I put my hand into his hair, bringing his head over so I could kiss behind his ear and whisper, 'I love you, Christopher Doll,' right into it. It brought him to the edge, and he crushed my mouth in one last kiss, pushing himself in deep, a moan in the back of his throat.

After, we lay together. His body was warm against mine, and my head was on his chest. I felt safe and loved in the most complete way. For a while, I allowed myself to forget, and fall asleep in his arms.

Later, sometime late in the night, we woke and did it again. I climbed on top of him before he was fully awake and had him inside me. The look in his eyes—of love, worship, lust, adoration—made the ride the best in my memory. His hands kept at my hips, or at my hands—at one point he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. We did not speak, not until the end. Instead, we only looked at each other, deep into one another's eyes, and kissed a few times, gently, passionately.

When it was done, I pressed myself close to him. Christopher seemed perfectly content with the world, but I was beginning to realize the consequences of our actions.

'I wish we could stay like this forever,' Christopher said, his hand rubbing my back affectionately.

When he heard me sniff, he looked up, concerned.

'Cathy, what's wrong?'

'I can't stay here,' I said, beginning to cry. 'I've got to go. We need lives apart from each other.'

'What? Cathy, don't go,' he begged me, but I got up anyway and left him. It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.


End file.
